


I Diplomatically Do Not

by Engineer104



Series: I Would Write 500 Words (and I Would Write 500 More) [7]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Crack, Diplomatic Incident in the making, Gen, Misunderstandings, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22396936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engineer104/pseuds/Engineer104
Summary: If only it was another dagger and another girl, but it’s not. Instead it’s a foreign empress, but Sylvain is still determined to keep Dimitri from drowning in a mess of his own making...again.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: I Would Write 500 Words (and I Would Write 500 More) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591699
Comments: 10
Kudos: 29
Collections: Those Who Drabble in the Dark





	I Diplomatically Do Not

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno what Albinea’s like or even if they’re an empire or kingdom or, heck, democracy so
> 
> this is dkdnskskaka silly but I had fun with it. For the Felannie Fever Discord prompt: misunderstandings

“Your Most Royal Majesty,” Sylvain says after taking a bracing breath. With the patience of Saint Cethleann herself, he grasps Dimitri’s shoulders and spins him around to face him. “My dearest and oldest friend Dimitri, my beloved sovereign, courageous and legendary Savior King of Fodlan and Faerghus and Adrestia—“

Dimitri sighs and says, “Get to the point Sylvain.”

“You are an idiot.”

When Dimitri only stares at him, his jaw agape, Sylvain does not consider that were his father here he would get his mouth smacked for insulting his king. But, well, Dimitri is also his friend, and he has always appreciated candor, and quite frankly someone needs to tell him when he’s made a mess of something and since Felix and Ingrid aren’t here and late-term pregnancy confined the queen to bedrest it falls on Sylvain to clean it up. 

“I...wait, why do you say that?” Dimitri recovers from his confusion quickly. He crosses his arms and frowns, and it’s really a testament to his patience that he doesn’t become defensive. 

Sylvain clasps his hands together. “You agreed to marry the Empress of Albinea just now, Your Majesty.”

“What?” Dimitri pouts in a manner that was probably cuter when he was half as big and twice as chubby as he is now. “I did no such thing! I merely agreed that I would pursue a diplomatic partnership between Fodlan and Albinea that would benefit both of us.”

Sylvain rakes his hand over his face. He can’t let his frustration show no matter how much he wants to - the Albinean delegation, which is to say nothing of any knights and servants and priests that might be lurking, lingers nearby. But he can’t help retorting, “Oh, is that all you thought she meant by ‘binding our souls together’ and ‘becoming one before gods and men’, Dimitri?”

Dimitri’s jaw flaps, and Sylvain wishes yet again it was Felix or Ingrid, who more regularly deal with any mishaps in Fhirdiad, here. 

“Do you think Felix would come back if you commanded him?” Sylvain wonders. 

“Annette’s birthday is this moon,” Dimitri reminds him. 

“But your wedding day—“

“I’m already married!” he exclaims, waving his arms. And there it is, an edge of panic slipping into his demeanor. “By the Four Saints, the Empress even met Marianne her first supper here! What could she possibly—“

Sylvain chuckles without humor. “The Empress is married too, Your Majesty,” he explains. “Their sovereigns are polygamous, so I wonder if she thought Fodlan is the same, never mind that Church doctrine forbids it.”

Dimitri’s eye widens. “Well, I will have to tell her I wanted an alliance, not a marriage.”

“Yes, yes you will,” Sylvain says. Some of the tension eases from his shoulders, but damn is he tired of all this negotiating. He misses his home too, a warm hearth with Mercedes’ slim fingers combing his hair out of his eyes. He’d trade the Lance of Ruin to the worst of the Srengi chieftains to return, but...well. 

“Let’s just figure out a way you can get an alliance without giving her a ring,” Sylvain says. He claps Dimitri on the shoulder and smiles in what he hopes is a reassuring manner. “Or maybe this lady would accept a dagger. Who knows? She scares me worse than the Hero of Daphnel.”

**Author's Note:**

> welp if there was ever a time to write Sylvain POV it was a short fic rather than a longer one where i’d give myself a headache or want to strangle him
> 
> ~~also i should stop posting from my phone~~


End file.
